


I Want the Best For You

by LovelyRita1967



Series: I Want the Best For You [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Kissing, M/M, Mild Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:28:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27978882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyRita1967/pseuds/LovelyRita1967
Summary: Jaskier has gotten them invited to a party, and things take a turn when Geralt realizes what kind of party it is... (This is not Explicit! There's sex but... other stuff happens.)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: I Want the Best For You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060037
Comments: 73
Kudos: 271





	I Want the Best For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blaire_Seton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaire_Seton/gifts).



> Blaire is an amazing friend and I love her so much, so I offered to write something for her birthday. She asked for some canon hurt/comfort, and I've never written canon before so I did my best! I love you, Blaire! I hope you like it! 
> 
> What happens when you are gifting your work to your beta, so she can't beta it?? Why, you turn to your other amazing writer friends, of course. I can't tell you how incredibly helpful [Gryphonheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gryphonheart/pseuds/Gryphonheart/works) and [CarmillaCarmine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmillaCarmine/pseuds/CarmillaCarmine/works) were. I'm so lucky to have so many talented friends! ♥♥ Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Geralt sighed. Jaskier had finished his performance in the tavern a while ago and Geralt was eager to get back to their room. They had had a long day of travelling, and tomorrow looked to be busy as well. There was a notice about a burgeoning collection of drowners in the river, and a few days ago the baker’s strapping son never returned from a hunt. Rumour had it he had been taken by something menacing lurking in the woods nearby. They had only found his horse, with the reins tangled in a thorn bush not far from the town. 

Geralt was hoping to sort out both problems tomorrow so they could be on their way. His potions were running low, and one of his most trusted apothecaries was only a day’s journey away, if they left at first light. 

But as he turned his attention back to the scene before him, Jaskier was lounging happily against a table, limbs loose, with a wide, carefree smile on his face as he drank in the adoration of several young women crowded around him. 

Geralt drained the last of his ale. Resignedly, he signaled for another. It didn’t look like Jaskier would be ready to leave anytime soon. He watched the bard throw his head back, his long neck gleaming in the candlelight, laughing while the women tittered with him. 

When Jaskier glanced over at Geralt, he gave the bard a glare that he hoped said, “Would you hurry the fuck up?” But all the women turned to peer at him too, and Geralt attempted to rearrange his features into a less stern expression. 

The women looked skeptical as they turned back to Jaskier, who was nodding enthusiastically. One of the women shrugged. 

Geralt deliberately didn’t listen to whatever they were plotting. He didn’t want to know. 

A while later, after Geralt had finished that ale, too, Jaskier sauntered over to where the witcher sat, and took the seat across from him. He reached for Geralt’s mug, pouting when he saw it was empty. But then he smiled at Geralt and batted his eyelashes. 

_ Well, fuck. _ That was never a good sign. 

“Geralt, there’s going to be a party tomorrow night-” he started. 

“No.” 

“Geralt! You haven’t even-”

“No.” 

“But-”

“No.” 

“Geralt, did you  _ see  _ those beautiful women? Lord Blythe’s niece has come from Nilfgaard and he’s throwing a party in her honour.” 

“Who is Lord Blythe?” 

“Well, how am I supposed to know? Apparently his manor is a little way out of town and he’s normally quite reclusive, but he wants to introduce his niece to society.” 

Geralt looked at him.  _ “We’re _ ‘society’?” He gestured between them, an amused smirk creeping into his expression. “A witcher and a bard?” 

Jaskier sniffed. “I am highly sought after in some circles, I’ll have you know…” 

“So you never fail to remind me,” Geralt muttered under his breath. 

“-and you, well… you’re rather easy on the eyes, aren’t you?” 

“I- what?” Geralt’s forehead creased in confusion. 

“When you clean yourself up, that is.” Jaskier wrinkled his nose at Geralt. “A bath is definitely in order before the party.” 

Geralt opened his mouth to say no again, then stopped himself, doubting there was even a point. Instead he clarified. “And who invited you to this party, exactly?” 

“Oh, that was Selene. She’s a servant at Blythe Manor. Lord Blythe sent her into town to invite - how did he phrase it - ‘young men and women, pleasing to the eye, and eager to partake in the celebration of Adeline’s coming of age’ to the party.” He preened a moment, then appraised Geralt. “Hopefully you have a decent, clean outfit to wear, at least? I wonder if there’s time to stop by the tailor…” He looked thoughtful, and Geralt glared back at him. “Alright, no tailor then,” Jaskier sighed dramatically. “Hmm, perhaps I’ll wear my red doublet…” 

Geralt sighed again, as Jaskier insisted on another ale for each of them. By the time he managed to drag Jaskier back to their room, Geralt was well past cranky. He stomped around and flopped into his bed with a grunt, doing his best to fall asleep despite Jaskier’s happy humming. 

Geralt was up with the sun, as irritable as he had been the evening before. Jaskier’s loud snoring all night had done nothing to improve his mood. He left the man sprawled out in his bed, now blessedly silent, of course. 

Geralt dispatched the drowners easily enough, but the mayor refused to pay him until he had investigated the missing baker’s son, Eldrich. 

The rest of the day was very frustrating. After talking to Eldrich’s family and friends, he decided that no one had any idea what had happened to the young man. Geralt’s ability to sniff out a lie was fairly reliable, but it seemed the general bafflement at Eldrich’s disappearance was genuine. 

He scoured the forest around where the horse had been found, and carefully followed the path between there and Eldrich’s house… but there was nothing to uncover, aside from a few suspiciously broken branches that led nowhere. But as the day grew later, Geralt reminded himself that he had promised to meet Jaskier back at the inn before dinner. He arrived late, even dirtier than he had been before, and extra pissed off. 

Jaskier took one look at Geralt’s face, and filed away the lecture he had prepared. Instead, he helped Geralt remove his armour and shooed him into the tub, tut-tutting about the twigs stuck in the witcher’s hair. Geralt allowed himself to enjoy the bath, and Jaskier’s clever fingers massaging his scalp. But he still wasn’t happy about this party, and he glowered at Jaskier as the bard obliviously chattered away while they dressed for the event. 

The manor was a little way out of town. Jaskier had obtained directions from Selene, but the way was easy enough to find. The turn off the main road was well lit by lanterns, and there were enough other people making their way to the party in assorted modes of transportation that they simply had to follow the trail of people.

When they arrived at the manor, they handed Roach over to a stablehand. Geralt made use of an extra coin plus his best scary face to ensure she was well looked after for the evening. The manor had perhaps been a rather grand building in another time, but had clearly been suffering from neglect in recent years. They made their way up the front steps through the wide double doors that were flung open to the night air.

The foyer was large and round, with dramatic red walls that shimmered in the candlelight, and the room was ringed with tables, each with a well-dressed attendant to greet the party-goers. 

Geralt and Jaskier found themselves in a line up with the rest of the crowd, until they reached a table and an attendant greeted them. He was in his mid-twenties maybe, tall and lanky with warm, brown skin and curly dark hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. His eyes were lightly lined in black and his full lips smiled warmly at them.

“Good evening, gentlemen, and welcome to Blythe Manor. My name is Pavel, and I will be happy to assist you in any way I can this evening. Could you please write your names down here?” He slid a piece of parchment over to each of them. 

Geralt frowned at Pavel while Jaskier began writing ‘Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove’ with elaborate loops and swirls. 

“What for?” Geralt asked. 

“For the pairings, of course.”

Geralt groaned inwardly.  _ What’s Jaskier done this time? _ “Dare I ask… pairings for what?” 

“Your...  _ partner  _ for the evening, sir,” Pavel explained patiently. 

Geralt straightened up and rolled his eyes heavenward. “Jaskier… did you bring me to a sex party?” 

“I… erm… Maybe?” Jaskier looked around, confused at first, but then caught the eye of a rather stunning dark-haired woman watching him from across the room. “Is that so bad?” He winked and grinned at her.

“So Lord Blythe arranged a sex party for his niece?” Geralt raised an eyebrow at Pavel. 

“Lord Blythe is… not here,” Pavel said delicately. “He’s gone to visit his sister in Little Wells. Lady Adeline is hosting this party.” 

Geralt sighed. “Jaskier…”

Jaskier, who was already fully on board with the idea of a sex party, threw his arms wide. “Oh, come on, you old grump! I happen to know it’s been ages since you've been with anyone. You had a bath today and everything. Live a little!” 

Geralt looked at Jaskier, bouncing on his toes, eyes shining with excitement.  _ Well, I certainly can’t leave the idiot here alone. He’ll get his dick wet and lose all sense. _ And Jaskier was right, it had been a while…

Geralt shook his head. Against his better judgement, he scratched his name on the parchment and handed it over.

“Man or woman?” Pavel asked Geralt, as Jaskier completed the finishing flourishes. 

“What?” Geralt’s attention snapped back to the man watching him amiably.

“I said ‘man or woman’.” Pavel looked rather amused now. “Would you prefer to be paired with a man or a woman this evening, sir?”

Geralt sighed again, his eyes unconsciously flicking over to Jaskier. “Either. As long as they don’t mind being paired with me.” 

Jaskier’s eyes widened at Geralt as he handed his slip over. “Either?”

Geralt shifted uncomfortably. “Yes…”

“You like men, too?” 

Geralt could feel the stares of half the room on him. He gritted his teeth. “Yes.”

Jaskier opened and closed his mouth. “Well.” He turned to Pavel. “Either for me, too.” 

Pavel nodded. “Very good. Names will be drawn in an hour, at which time you’ll be given a partner and a room. Establish a safe word first, the room is yours for the night, and once you leave here, you never speak of it again.” He paused, and turned to Geralt. “Oh, Master Witcher... You will need to leave your swords.”

Geralt stiffened.

“Geralt,” Jaskier was already placing a calming hand on his arm. “It’s okay. It’s just for a few hours. Look at the crowd… no one else is armed!” 

The witcher glanced at Jaskier’s hand on his arm, and reluctantly agreed. Pavel took Geralt’s swords with great care and waved them through a grand, arched doorway into a large salon. Geralt recognized Selene, as well as a few of the other women who had been at the tavern the previous night. 

Waitstaff brought around trays of bite-sized food that one could eat with their fingers while mingling. The unspoken implication was clear: You didn’t want to meet your partner with a stomach stuffed full of roasted boar and potatoes. Geralt found himself uninterested in the food, however, and waved away tray after tray. He  _ did  _ help himself to a goblet of wine every time that tray came by. 

Jaskier, happily popping in a bite of whatever food was offered, kept a running commentary on every person who wandered by. “Ooh, look at her. What a dress. She looks like she’d be a wild cat in bed. What do you think, Geralt? Or him… I like them muscley, don’t you? Those pants are awfully tight… he’d give you a run for your money in that category!” He chuckled to himself while Geralt rolled his eyes and took another sip of wine. 

As the hour mark approached, the room’s attention turned to the glass bowls sitting on the table along the front of the room. It was up on a dais, and as Pavel and another attendant stepped onto it, the room came to a hush on its own. 

The attendants began to draw names, announcing the pairs to the room as each was drawn. It must have been a complicated system for figuring out how to pair everyone up with their preferred gender, and it didn’t hit Geralt until only one bowl remained that it was possible he would get paired up with Jaskier. 

His stomach clenched at the idea and he reached for another goblet of wine. 

“Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove,” Pavel called finally. Jaskier made a muffled noise of excitement and stepped forward. Pavel pulled out another piece of parchment from the same jar, “and…” 

Geralt realized he was holding his breath. 

“... Lady Adeline of Blythe Manor.”

The beautiful woman with long, dark hair and a sultry smile that they had noticed when they first came in took a smooth step forward. 

“Oh hoho,” Jaskier said under his breath. 

Geralt watched Jaskier sweep an elaborate bow to Lady Adeline before kissing her hand. She took his arm, batting her eyelashes, and they disappeared through the archway up the stairs, heads already bowed together. 

“Geralt of Rivia...” called Pavel. 

The cold reality of the situation washed over him. What was he even doing here? Standing alone in a room, a freak waiting for someone who wouldn’t even want him. Would likely be scared by him. He didn’t move but it didn’t matter. Every eye remaining was on him. 

“-and…” Pavel pulled another slip from the bowl, “Miss Marietta du Vallée.”

A pretty brunette, small and curvy, with huge, liquid brown eyes took a timid step forward.  _ Well, she isn’t running screaming out the door, so that’s a good start.  _

Geralt walked towards her, without getting too close at first, and bowed stiffly. She dropped a small curtsey and then shyly took his offered arm. He could hear her heart racing. 

An attendant led them up the same staircase. Geralt strained his ears and he could hear Jaskier’s voice, raised in excitement, coming from somewhere nearby, but with all the other background chatter and the echo off the stone walls, it was impossible to say exactly where it was coming from. 

The attendant showed them to a simple room, not much more than a bed, table, and fireplace in the corner, and closed the door behind him. Geralt turned to face Marietta. She had perched on the bed and was nervously smoothing her skirts. 

He could detect a faint whiff of fear, but not as much as he expected. “Are you okay with...” He gestured to himself. 

She nodded confidently, clearly planning to push through any nerves. “Yes… my best friend, Dessy, was with a witcher once and she said it was…” she blushed and looked at her hands, “... very enjoyable.” She looked back up at him through her lashes. “Am I pleasing to you?” 

Geralt sighed. “Yes.” 

Her eyes snapped open. “That doesn’t sound very convincing.” 

_ Fuck. _ He scrambled. “You’re lovely.” 

She raised an eyebrow at him. “But…?”

“No ‘but’. Let’s... begin. I think we need a safe word.” He pulled his jacket off and followed by his shirt and tossed them onto the floor. 

“No, could you just… hold on for a minute here.” She frowned. “Were you hoping to be paired with someone else?”

“No.” 

Realization dawned on her face. “You were. Was it that cute man with brown hair you came in with?” 

_ “No.” _

“And he doesn’t like you back?” Her eyes were warm and understanding.

Geralt stared at her dumbly.  _ Was  _ he hoping to get paired with Jaskier? Is that why his stomach had been in knots all night, why he felt his heart squeezing when Jaskier disappeared through the archway with Adeline. 

“I don’t…. I didn’t… Fuck,” he said succinctly. 

“Oh, Geralt.” She patted the bed next to her. “Come tell me all about, sweetie.” 

Thirty minutes later, Geralt was stretched out on the bed, his head on Marietta’s lap. Her soothing fingers ran through his hair. 

“And I guess I’ve always been attracted to him. But he falls into bed with everyone and, if he wanted me that way… don’t you think he would have fallen into bed with  _ me  _ by now?” 

Marietta shook her head emphatically. “No, look. He must be waiting for you to make the move. Because, and be honest, Geralt, what reasons have you given him to think you like him?” 

Geralt heaved himself up and frowned at her. “I let him travel with me.” 

She chucked dryly. “Didn’t you just tell me you punched him in the stomach when he first tried to go with you?” 

Geralt winced. “Fuck.” 

She reached over to stroke his arm. “Geralt. You need to tell him. You need to tell him tonight.” She smiled. “You battle monsters for a living. You can do this.” 

Geralt took a deep breath, trying to imagine actually saying anything like that aloud to Jaskier, when the quiet of the evening was shattered by a blood curdling shriek. 

“GERALT!” 

It was Jaskier. 

Geralt’s heart seized. Running purely on instinct, and still shirtless, he wrenched open the door and was down the hallway in less than a breath, following the fading echo of Jaskier’s cry. 

He paused at a branch in the corridor, yanking his silver dagger out of his boot. It was all he had, and it would have to do. He turned his head one way then the other, unable to determine where the voice had come from. He started to panic. “JASKIER!” he bellowed as loud as he could. 

“Geralt!” came back, a little closer this time. Thank the gods. Geralt tore down the corridor towards Jaskier. Another shriek - this time one of pain. 

Geralt flew. When he reached the room that contained Jaskier, he threw himself against the door, the wood shattering as it flew off its hinges. He took in the scene in an instant. Jaskier was backed up against a wall, wearing only his smallclothes. His head was tilted back, and blood flowed from a wound on his exposed neck. 

Lady Adeline of Blythe Manor was gripping Jaskier’s hair with one hand and his shoulder with the other, fingers digging into the soft flesh. She was naked, but her skin was now shriveled and grey, her eyes showing only white. She turned and hissed at Geralt, her fangs dripping with Jaskier’s blood. 

Without even thinking, he hurled the silver dagger at her. It flew through the air, end over end, until it sank into her right eye with a satisfying squelch. She shrieked, letting go of Jaskier and clawing at the dagger. Her screams were a percussive throb that pierced the air, accentuated only by the sickening noise of Jaskier’s body crumpling to the ground. 

Geralt braced himself against the blast of her shriek, and hit her with Aard. She fell back against the wall, writhing and spitting. 

He felt a rage overtake him, the need to tear her from limb to limb for hurting Jaskier. He threw himself on her and they fell to the ground, a tangle of thrashing limbs. He groped for the dagger, wary of her gnashing teeth, and he plunged it deeper into her eye with a vicious twist. 

She howled and shuddered, and an acrid, burning smell filled Geralt’s nostrils as the wound crackled and hissed. Her body curled in on itself, her cry fading to a whimper, and she convulsed once more, then was still. 

Geralt kicked her corpse away and scrabbled over to Jaskier’s prone form. He felt the panic welling up this throat. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt panted, his hands frantic. He cradled Jaskier’s head, stroking the man’s cheek with his thumbs. “Jaskier, can you hear me?” 

For a moment that felt like ten years, Jaskier was terrifyingly still and silent, then he sucked in a gasp of air and his bright blue eyes blinked open. Geralt wanted to weep with relief. 

“Geralt,” he croaked, trying to sit up. 

“Shh, easy,” Geralt soothed, holding him firmly. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.” He grabbed Jaskier’s discarded shirt from the floor, and pressed it to the bite on his neck. 

“She was a… vampire.” He sounded dazed. 

“Bruxa.” Geralt pursed his lips, furious at himself for allowing the evening to dull his senses to something that should have been so glaringly obvious to a witcher. “I’m sorry.” 

Jaskier blinked up at him, confused. “You’re sorry for… saving my life?” 

“Sorry for not noticing you were paired with a fucking bruxa.” His limbs felt weak and shaky. 

Jaskier sat up and this time Geralt let him. “Don’t blame yourself, Geralt. She looked perfectly harmless. She was Lord Blythe’s niece. Why would you have suspected anything?” 

Geralt looked from the shriveled corpse, back to Jaskier’s wide, bright eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Geralt, stop apologizing.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but then he shivered. 

Geralt wanted to smack himself. He was such an idiot for letting Jaskier sit there, shirtless and bleeding. The man was going into shock, and needed to be warm. Geralt turned and yanked the thick blanket off the bed with his other hand and wrapped it around Jaskier’s shoulders. 

He heard tentative footsteps in the hallway and then a soft knock on the broken door frame. 

“Geralt?” It was Marietta, peering at them with concern. “There are some people in the hall, and everyone is just wondering if-” She stopped, taking in the sight of the grey, lifeless form on the floor. 

“Just a bruxa,” Jaskier laughed shakily. “Nothing Geralt of Rivia can’t handle.” 

“Tell everyone it’s fine. They can go back to their rooms,” Geralt said gruffly, his eyes not leaving Jaskier’s. 

She nodded, taking in the blood stains on the shirt that was firmly held to Jaskier’s neck. “Do you need anything?” 

“Some water and bandages. I’ll take Jaskier back to our room.” 

“Right away.” She scurried off. Geralt could hear her reassuring people as she went. 

Geralt retrieved his dagger from the eye socket and wiped it off on one of the sheets. Then he scooped Jaskier into his arms and carried him down the hall back to his room. 

“I can walk…” Jaskier said, sounding a little flustered. 

“You shouldn’t exert yourself.” Geralt stared straight ahead, careful to avoid eye contact, while he enjoyed Jaskier’s reassuring weight and warmth in his arms. 

Geralt laid Jaskier carefully out on the bed and went to go find Marietta, but as he stepped into the hallway, she was bustling towards him. 

“They’re all in quite an uproar, but a servant was able to get me these.” She held a bowl of water and had a bundle of rags and bandages over her shoulder. “Can I help?” 

They sat gently next to Jaskier on the bed. Carefully, methodically, Geralt cleaned and bandaged the wound, while Marietta assisted, filling him in on what she had been able to glean from the servants. 

It seemed that no one had actually seen Lord Blythe in a few days. “Lady Adeline” said he had gone to visit his sister. No one even knew he had a sister, or a niece for that matter. But when she had turned up a week or so ago, the old man had seemed happy to see her. Of course, it had seemed a bit odd that he kept calling her by his long dead wife’s name, but he hadn’t really had firm hold of his senses for a few years now, and no one really thought much of it. 

Geralt figured that the bruxa must have thought she could live at the manor for a while, partaking in meals from the town, making Eldrich one of her likely victims. The witcher made a note to have a look around for Eldrich’s body once Jaskier was settled. 

Marietta stood and gathered the dirty rags. She looked down at Jaskier, who seemed to have fallen asleep under their ministrations. “Well... I think I’ll be heading home, unless you need anything else.” 

Geralt rose to his feet as well, and inclined his head at her. “Thank you, Marietta. For everything.” 

She smiled at him. “The night didn’t exactly go as planned. But you still have your chance.” She went up on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “Good luck, Geralt of Rivia.” 

Geralt watched the door close behind her then turned to look at Jaskier. He had curled up on his side, facing the wall. His breathing was slow and steady. Without even thinking, Geralt slipped into the bed behind him and gently slid his arm around Jaskier’s waist. He took a deep breath, inhaling Jaskier’s scent. Jaskier mumbled something and wiggled backwards into Geralt’s body. A tightness loosened in Geralt’s chest, and he slept. 

When he woke up, Jaskier was facing him, their chests pressed together. Jaskier’s head was tucked under his chin, and his tousled hair ruffled against Geralt’s lips, filling the witcher’s nose with its scent. Their legs were twined together, arms around each other.

He felt his breath catch. He wanted to wake up like this every morning. So now, just for a moment, he allowed himself to believe it was possible. 

He could hear Jaskier starting to wake up, and was concerned when he noticed that the man’s heart rate was increasing rapidly. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. 

“I’m more than alright,” Jaskier murmured back, his long eyelashes fluttering. 

Geralt started to pull away, but he was stopped when Jaskier gripped him tighter. “No, not yet,” he whispered into Geralt’s chest. “Just let me have a bit more.” 

Geralt relaxed back into the mattress and Jaskier’s words echoed in his head.  _ I’m more than alright. Let me have a bit more. _ He carefully weighed a reply.

“Jaskier…”

“No, it’s okay, Geralt. I know. I just…” 

Geralt pulled back to look at Jaskier’s face but the bard kept his eyes resolutely closed. 

“You know...?” 

Jaskier shook his head and buried it back into Geralt’s chest. “I know you don’t feel the way about me… that I do about you. But it’s fine. I’m fine with it.” The words were muffled. 

“You…” Geralt’s mind was racing. He sat up, gently prying Jaskier’s arms from around him. “I need to check your bite.” 

Jaskier finally opened his eyes and looked up at Geralt. He nodded and tilted his chin up, leaving his neck exposed. 

Geralt felt the air leave his chest. This man had just been attacked, and very nearly killed, and here he was, baring his wounded neck to Geralt like it was nothing. Jaskier trusted him implicitly, and had never once shown fear, not even when Geralt was black-eyed and bleeding after a fight. 

Geralt gently peeled the bandages back, giving a grunt of approval when he saw that the wound didn’t look any worse. “I have some salve back at the inn that should help. Just let me rewrap this…” 

Geralt slid off the bed to retrieve the rest of the bandages. When he turned back Jaskier was watching him through lowered lashes. He was still shirtless, and one hand trailed lazily through his chest hair, and the sunlight that slanted through the window gave his skin a golden glow. Geralt felt his mouth dry out at the sight. 

He perched tentatively on the edge of the bed and leaned forward to wrap the bandage around Jaskier’s neck again. Jaskier’s mouth fell open, and his breath grew louder. 

“Is that too tight?” Geralt asked softly. His hands lingered on the bandage when he had finished, and his eyes wandered to Jaskier’s lips. 

Jaskier shook his head wordlessly. His heart was hammering again, a rhythmic drumming that made Geralt feel both at ease and hopelessly undone all at once. 

Geralt’s fingers moved from the bandage to gently trace along Jaskier’s collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

“Jaskier…” Geralt began, still searching for what he wanted to say. 

“Yes,” Jaskier whispered. His hand reached out across the sheet and rested gently on top of Geralt’s, a careful question. 

And there was only one answer. Geralt slowly leaned towards Jaskier, watching his mouth, and then their lips touched. 

The kiss was soft - chaste, at first, but then Jaskier made a noise of surprised pleasure as his mouth fell open. And then his hands were in Geralt’s hair, his tongue seeking Geralt’s. 

A floodgate opened in Geralt, one that he didn’t know he’d been keeping closed, and he let himself be carried away in Jaskier’s lips, hands, and soft, happy sighs. 

Geralt scooted his hips across the bed, and Jaskier rolled to meet him, twining their bodies together in a gentle echo of how they had woken, just a few short minutes ago. 

“Wait,” Geralt panted, pulling away, as Jaskier made a small noise of displeasure. “Your neck…” 

“Fuck my neck,” Jaskier breathed. His lips found Geralt’s mouth again, silencing the witcher’s protests. 

Geralt pressed his hips into Jaskier, who groaned and pressed back, grinding into him in slow circles until they were both gasping with need. 

“Do you want me, Geralt? Are you sure?” Jaskier asked shyly, unable to stop his hands from traveling the hard planes of Geralt’s chest. 

“I’ve never wanted anything more.” Finally the words came. 

Jaskier kissed him again, his eyes drifting closed as he carded his hands gently through Geralt’s hair.

Geralt slid his hands into Jaskier’s small clothes, relishing the dip of his hips, and the soft trail of hair that led down his stomach. He pushed the linens down around Jaskier’s knees, who then kicked them right off. Geralt took him in his hand. Jaskier gasped into the kiss, and his fingers groped to unbutton Geralt’s pants. 

After a moment of struggling, Jaskier had to break away to see what he was doing, laughing as he fumbled, then groaning as Geralt’s wrist twisted. 

“Ah, Geralt…” he gasped, until he finally was able to pull the witcher free of his trousers. Jaskier took them both in his hand, the velvety smooth skin of their lengths rubbing together. They panted into each other’s mouths as Jaskier stroked them, slowly at first, but then with increasing speed, causing Geralt to tremble with pleasure. 

Jaskier’s fingers were long and elegant, the fingertips calloused from his lute strings. The sensation made Geralt see stars, and he lost himself in the smell and taste and feel of the man whose affection he’d been denying himself for years.

Geralt felt his climax building as Jaskier continued to stroke him, and finally with a low groan, he spilled onto Jaskier’s stomach. Jaskier followed him with a soft cry, and Geralt watched him come undone, with flushed cheeks, pink lips, and his head tipped back in ecstasy. He had never seen anything so beautiful. 

Until he noticed there was blood seeping through Jaskier’s bandages. 

“Fuck,” he bit out, pressing a hand to the wound and hastily wiping up their spend with the sheet. “You’re bleeding again.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Jaskier murmured, eyes half closed, mouth in a sleepy smile. 

“No, I shouldn’t have-”

Jaskier’s eyes snapped open. “Geralt,” he said, with more force than Geralt had ever heard him use before. “Stop. It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m  _ alive, _ thanks to you. I  _ dragged _ you to a sex party that I was lured to by a blood-sucking supernatural being who could have killed me.” He shook his head and blushed a little. “And then… I got to have sex with you, which is only all I’ve been dreaming about since the moment I met you.” 

He pushed Geralt back onto the pillows and climbed onto him, straddling his hips. “So when I say I’m ‘fine’, what I mean is, I’m eternally grateful and deliriously happy, and I am very much looking forward to having sex with you again.” He leaned forward and kissed Geralt’s nose, tucking a loose strand of white hair behind his ear. 

Geralt’s hands wrapped around Jaskier’s narrow hips, contemplating the man’s words for a moment, then he pulled Jaskier back down to him and kissed him desperately. 

Jaskier’s hips started to move again when Geralt’s witcher instincts intervened. “Wait…. Wait.” He forced himself to think about dangerous beasts that might be lurking, and not the ravishing man who was sitting on him, naked. “I need to check things out, make sure there’s no sign of other bruxae.” Geralt resolutely pushed Jaskier off his lap, ignoring his protests. “You stay here and rest,” he ordered as he climbed out of the bed. He pulled the blankets up around Jaskier and tucked him in. 

Jaskier pouted. “Yes, my big strong witcher, but hurry back to me.” 

“Stay here,” Geralt repeated firmly, and turned to go, but then he stopped and came back to kiss Jaskier on the forehead, letting his lips linger. 

Jaskier’s eyes sparkled and he wiggled happily into the blankets. “See if you can find me some food too, please.” 

“Mmm.” Geralt pulled on his shirt and boots and tucked his dagger back into its sheath by his ankle. 

His first stop was the foyer, where he found his swords stashed in a closet. Feeling much better with their familiar weight on his back, he headed to the kitchen. He found Pavel seated at a table with a steaming mug in front of him in the otherwise deserted room. His loose, disheveled hair brushed his shoulders as he started off into the distance, his smudged eyeliner giving a vaguely haunted appearance to his otherwise handsome face. 

“Pavel,” Geralt called out in a soft voice, trying not to startle him. 

The man jumped a mile anyway and lurched to his feet. “Master Witcher! You startled me.” 

“Just Geralt is fine. And sit down, please.” He looked around the room. Apart from a pot of something that was simmering over the fire, there were no other signs of life in what should have been a bustling kitchen for a manor of this size. “Where are all the servants?” 

“They’ve all, err… gone.” Pavel slumped back into his chair. “Word spread that Lord Blythe was dead, and a bruxa was terrorizing the guests… They worried that we might be blamed for what happened, and, well… they left.” 

“And yet you're still here.” 

Pavel shrugged. “Lord Blythe was always good to me. I’ll stay and see to his estate, at least until an heir arrives.” 

“Is he dead, do you think?” Geralt asked.

Pavel nodded and took a thoughtful sip of his tea. “When she told us he’d gone to visit his sister… I should have known. He wasn’t well... He was mostly confined to his bed. If someone’s taken him or he’s wandered off, he wouldn’t last long.” 

“Are there any guests left?” 

“I think most of them left last night after the… disturbance. Maybe a few remain…” 

Geralt nodded. He hadn’t heard any other heartbeats in the manor on his way down to the kitchen. “And do you think there are more bruxae?” 

Pavel looked pained. “I couldn’t say. I didn’t suspect Adeline… or whatever her name is.” 

“It’s not your fault, Pavel. Bruxae can seem very human-like. You had no reason to suspect her. And…” Geralt hesitated. “I didn’t notice her, either.” 

Pavel sat up straighter, looking like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Is there a basement or a cellar?” Geralt shifted on his feet, anxious to get going. 

“Yes, sir.” He pointed down a passageway. “Do you need any help?” 

“Could you bring Jaskier something to eat, please? He’s in the room I had…” 

Pavel jumped to his feet. “Of course, sir. Right away.” 

“And maybe some more bandages. And a shirt.” 

Pavel was already retrieving a tray and piling it with bread. But then he stopped and turned to look at Geralt, his eyes serious. “You have my deepest apologies. He was injured under this roof, and I-” 

Geralt stopped him with a raised hand. “Don’t be. The only one who should be sorry is the bruxa, and she’s dead.” 

Pavel gave him a small smile. “You’ll want to take a candle. It’s dark down there.”

Geralt hadn’t brought any potions with him, but he could see fairly well in dim lighting. Still, he trusted Pavel and took a candle off the table with him. 

He paused at the top of the stairs, listening carefully. There was a single heartbeat coming from down below, faint and slow. Reassured that Jaskier was safely tucked into the bed upstairs, he crept silently into the cellar. 

It turned out Pavel was right. As he descended the stairs and rounded a corner, he found it was near total darkness in the cellar. The floors were hard-packed dirt and there were four heavy wooden doors off the narrow corridor. The first three were locked tight and there was nothing but total silence behind them. The fourth door was open a crack, and the slow heartbeat was behind it. He pulled his steel sword out. 

He pushed the door open and it creaked on its hinges. Nothing moved inside. Geralt held the candle up and saw two bodies lying crumpled on the floor. One was an old, frail-looking man. By the looks and smell of the body, he had been dead for a few days, although the chill of the cellar had slowed his decomposition. Perhaps that and the fact that there was likely no blood left in him. Geralt pursed his lips, hoping that Lord Blythe had not suffered too much in the end. 

The other body was still alive but unconscious, appearing to be a younger, thinner version of the baker. His wrists and ankles were chained to a loop on the wall, but based on his pale skin and shallow breathing, he wouldn’t have been strong enough to escape even without the chains. 

And then something crashed into Geralt’s back, and he felt a searing pain in his shoulder as a sharpness dug into him, tearing at his flesh. He rolled as he hit the ground, dropping the candle and unsheathing his silver sword in a singular, smooth motion. 

Geralt didn’t even have time to curse before the thing was on him again. He could barely see in the blackness, but he caught a flash of white eyes, and then the bruxa shrieked. He felt the intensity of the cry squeezing against his skin as her claws caught him across the shoulder. He cast Aard right into her chest and she flew backwards, hitting the stone wall with a sickening thud. 

He jumped to his feet and arced his sword down where he thought she’d be standing, and he felt the tip of the steel catch her flesh. She howled again, and he swung his sword back towards the sound. He felt his blade slice through the spinal column, and her scream turned into a gurgle. There was a thump as her head hit the ground. 

Geralt panted, watching the bruxa’s white eyes roll around in her dismembered head until they stopped, fixed on him. He was hit by a searing wave of pain in his back, and the witcher was unsure of exactly where it began or ended. He could feel the blood flowing, soaking his pants - quite a lot of blood, actually. He sank to one knee, feeling dizzy, and everything went black as he toppled to the floor. His last thought before he lost consciousness was a hope there were no more bruxae...

* * * * 

Geralt woke and felt a figure looming over him. He lurched to sit up, reaching for his sword. 

“Shhh, easy, Geralt. It’s okay.” A soothing hand stroked his face, squeezed his hand. “It's me, it’s Jaskier. You’re okay…” 

Jaskier’s familiar scent hit him and Geralt took a deep, calming breath of it, then opened his eyes to find Jaskier’s soft blue eyes watching him. 

“What happened?” Geralt demanded, his throat rasping. His shoulder and chest were aching and the skin felt pulled tight. Most of his torso was wrapped in bandages. He was otherwise naked, but tucked warmly into the bed.

Jaskier lifted a cup of water to Geralt’s lips and helped him drink. Geralt tried to lift an arm to hold the cup himself, but he winced with the pain that shot through his shoulder at the movement. 

“Pavel told me you had gone down into the cellars when he brought me food, so when you didn’t come back right away, we went down looking for you. We found you on the floor next to another bruxa, bleeding…” Jaskier swallowed audibly. “We were able to get you conscious enough that we could help you back up the stairs. When I saw you lying there, Geralt-” His lips quivered.

“But your neck-”

“My neck is fine. Look.” Jaskier lifted his chin and pointed to his unbandaged throat, where Geralt could see that the bite marks had faded to a soft pink and were almost healed. Only some purple bruising around the wound remained. 

Geralt peered at it suspiciously. “That healed well in such a short time...”

“It’s... been a day, Geralt, and I’ve had some of your salve on it…” He paused, seeing Geralt’s confusion. “You were out for the rest of the day and the night. We managed to get you into bed and Pavel helped me bandage you up. I don’t know what I would have done without him. He rode into town to retrieve our things from the inn, and to let Eldrich’s family know we found him. They’ve already come to collect him - and left you a rather large bag of coins, I might add.”

“Will he be okay?” Geralt asked, grimacing at the throb in his back.

“He’s very weak, but he had some broth and we think we’ll be fine…You, however... “ Jaskier pushed Geralt’s hair behind his ear and smoothed his fingers over Geralt’s cheek again. “Once Pavel got back we gave you a vial of Swallow… but you need some more rest. That beast took quite a chunk out of your back.”

A soft knock interrupted them. 

“Come in!” Jaskier called without taking his eyes off of Geralt. 

Pavel’s head poked through the door, his eyeliner and immaculate ponytail restored. “Oh, it’s a relief to see you awake again, sir.” 

“It’s just Geralt.” 

“Yes, of course, Geralt, sir. I’ve brought you both some breakfast…” Pavel pushed open the door and came in with a tray laden with enough food to feed ten people. He set it carefully down on the foot of the bed, then began collecting leftover dishes and dirty bandages from around the room. 

“Pavel, won’t you eat with us, please?” asked Jaskier. “We can clean up later.” 

“Oh, no,” Pavel said, piling his armload onto another tray. “I already ate in the kitchen. I’ve started heating water for a bath for you…” 

“Not heated,” Geralt grunted. “Just the water. I can do the rest.” 

“Oh, yes. Of course you can. I’ll bring you the water straight away.” 

“I can help-” Jaskier started, getting up from the bed. 

“No, please. Eat.” He smiled at them and shut the door firmly behind him.

Geralt noticed a small copper tub in the corner, and, as they ate, Pavel was in and out with water, his arms and chest straining from the two heavy buckets he carried at a time.

Once the tub was full and Pavel had cleared the dishes, Geralt sat up and allowed Jaskier to carefully peel the bandages off. His witcher healing was really a thing to behold - the wounds from her teeth and claws, while still red and angry, had already sealed closed. 

Geralt gingerly climbed out of the bed. He shooed Jaskier away who was fussing over him and cast Igni at the tub until the water was comfortably steaming. Geralt sat back in the bath with a hiss and allowed Jaskier to gently wash the blood from his skin. 

When he got out, pale skin shining wet, Jaskier carefully patted him dry and instructed him to lie down on the bed. “You need to rest. Let me take care of you.” Jaskier stretched out on his side next to him, his fingers lightly stroking Geralt’s chest. He leaned forward to kiss him softly, his fingers circling lower and lower, until they wrapped around Geralt’s length. He gently stroked at the soft skin, and Geralt’s interest quickly became apparent. 

Geralt arched his back, a contented purr rumbling from his chest. When he wanted more than just Jaskier’s hand on him, he reached for the salve next to the bed. He pressed his fingers into Jaskier and prepared him slowly. They kissed and ground together until they were desperate and panting. 

When Jaskier finally climbed on top of him and sank down onto Geralt, they both groaned with pleasure. He began to rock his hips, hands ghosting over Geralt’s chest. 

“My darling witcher,” he whispered, his eyelashes fluttering, as Geralt pushed up into him. “Please… yes…” He tipped his head back and sighed. “Yes.” 

Geralt held onto Jaskier’s hips, letting him set the rhythm as he rode him. Geralt bit his lip and moaned. “Ah, fuck, Jaskier…” 

When Geralt took Jaskier in his hand, a few long, slow strokes were enough to tip Jaskier over the edge, and Geralt followed, a rough cry ripping from his throat.

Jaskier collapsed next to Geralt, gasping for breath. Once he had recovered, he used a rag to wipe them both clean. He pulled the blankets up and wrapped himself around Geralt until they drifted off again. It was dark when they awoke to another knock from Pavel. 

Jaskier made sure the blankets were up over their waists before he answered, but he was too happy to care that they were both naked and tangled together in the bed. 

“Come in,” he called. “And excuse… us.” 

Pavel saw them wrapped together and beamed. “I'm happy to see you’re feeling better, Geralt, sir.”

“Yes,” Geralt sat up carefully. “We’ll be on our way in the morning.” 

“You most certainly will not. I have a house full of food and no one else to help eat it.” He held up yet another heaping tray. “Your wounds are still healing. Please, stay a few days until you’re fully recovered.” 

Jaskier and Geralt looked at each other. “We’ll stay…” Jaskier said hesitantly, “if you’ll eat your meals with us.” 

Pavel paused, biting at his lip. “I wouldn’t want to impose…” 

“Don’t be silly, you’re not imposing. Please, join us.” Jaskier’s tone was friendly, but insistent.

Pavel looked at Geralt, who nodded his agreement. 

With a smile, Pavel placed the tray on the bed and pulled a chair up to sit next to them. Jaskier and Geralt sat up, cross legged, blankets artfully arranged over their laps, and then three of them dug into the bread, pork, dried apples, and ale. 

“I was hoping to pair you two up, you know,” Pavel said thoughtfully as he chewed. “For the party. I could feel something between you. But Lady Ade… the bruxa chose Jaskier for herself.” 

Geralt looked at Jaskier who was preening again. “Are you… proud of yourself right now?” 

“Geralt, it’s not my fault that I’m so… desirable!” He fluttered his eyelashes and tossed his head. 

Geralt flicked a piece of apple at him. 

They stayed another day. Pavel had slowly been making their room more comfortable for them, adding furniture, cushions, and blankets. The next morning he brought them a luxurious fur rug for the cold, stone floor in front of the fireplace. Geralt took Jaskier on his hands and knees there, his hips moving in short, snapping thrusts, while Jaskier grunted with each push. Geralt lost himself in the feeling of Jaskier’s body gripping him, and the sounds of Jaskier’s pleasure. The fire popped and crackled, their skin golden in the light. 

And then, for one more day, they mapped one another's bodies with hands and mouths, learning what would elicit soft gasps or groans. They indulged in the luxury of the time they had together, the gift they had been given. And perhaps even another day passed… who’s to say if they all lost count. Until a messenger came from town, bearing word that Lord Blythe’s heir had been found and was on his way to the manor. 

When the time came for them to leave, Geralt and Jaskier faced Pavel in the foyer with the red walls, remembering the evening they had arrived. It had only been five.. or six?... days ago, but it felt like a lifetime. 

“Thank you, Pavel. We overstayed our welcome,” Geralt said apologetically. 

Pavel shook his head. “I won’t hear of it. Having you stay while you healed allowed me to begin repaying my debt. I only hope to one day pay it in full.” 

“We are the ones in your debt, Pavel,” Jaskier said, taking Geralt’s hand and leaning his head on the witcher’s shoulder. “Although I do look forward to seeing you again.” 

“Perhaps the heir will keep me on,” Pavel said softly, gazing at the pair of them thoughtfully. “Then again, perhaps not… but if you should ever find yourselves back one day… please ask for me.” 

“We will.” 

Pavel hugged them each tightly, his eyes squeezed shut. 

“Good luck, Jaskier. Geralt. I hope the world is kind to you.” 

They mounted Roach, Geralt tucking Jaskier in front of him. They watched Pavel waving to them from the front step as they rode off, until leafy branches blocked their view.

The soft clop of Roach’s hooves and the swallows swooping through the trees were the only sounds that broke the silence as they rode onward. 

“It’s a nice feeling, isn’t it?” Jaskier finally asked. “Knowing that someone out there wants the best for you?” 

Geralt found one of Jaskier’s hands and gave it a soft squeeze. “Mmm,” he agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing canon is hard!!! (And please let me know if I missed any obvious tags.) I spent days just trying to think of an idea I felt like I hadn’t already read a million times. And then when I got going I was pretty focused on the bruxa story… Pavel sort of came out of nowhere. He was just “the attendant” at first, but then he kept showing up, and I fell in love with him a little bit. Because Pavel and Marietta are all of us. They just want the best for Geraskier. 
> 
> You can check out [my more usual modern AUs here or subscribe to me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyRita1967/pseuds/LovelyRita1967) if you like. 
> 
> Come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/LovelyRita1967) (18+) and [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lovelyrita1967). I follow back! 
> 
> Kudos are so appreciated, and each and every comment makes me sooooo insanely happy. Thank you ♥‿♥


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